Just Another Wedding
by rani185
Summary: Our misguided heroes tying the knot. At last. slash.


Disclaimer: Eroica and his entourage belong expressly to Her Majesty Yasuko Aoike san. I am just borrowing them for my nefarious purpose.

Warning: this is slash, as in m/m. Not comfortable with the idea? Then turn back and flee. You are welcome to flame, but that will only serve to increase my review-count and probably interest other people in reading this. And sorry for any mistakes in describing the wedding, 'cause I am not Christian and my only experience with church-weddings is through television.

It was a normal wedding day in the church of Eberbach.

The bells were ringing. The birds were singing. And all that happy rot you find in a B-grade Hollywood romance was manifesting itself in various animate and inanimate forms.

The guests were taking their seats, and you may rest assured that there were not a few scuffles about the seating arrangement. In fact, the eagerness to witness the ceremony from the first row propelled some into fistfights, spirited men as they were.

There was no scarcity of vigorous weeping either (as should be on such happy occasions), and specifically one obese and middle-edged man whom the other invitees kept referring to as "chief" kept bawling his head off into a previously pristine handkerchief, and his expensive suit would have been ruined by now had not the blond-haired cross dresser beside him been keeping a fresh stack of linen ready for immediate use.

A gaggle of sprightly children dressed in suits that they generally would not be caught dead in sat angelically beside their mothers, though a few of the younger ones had to be pacified by promises of future cookies now and then.

The groom stood placidly in front of the altar, his charcoal-grey suit reflecting the light of the candle, his black curtain of hair streaked with a liberal amount of white swaying gently in an invisible wind. His face was blissfully void of a familiar uncertain feeling that too often troubles the mind of a man in his situation. The white rose attached to his lapel seemed to be a silent recognition of the man's patience and confidence, for it is with these emotions that the man stood in anticipation of the bride.

If one could call the bride a "bride", that is.

For as the bride entered on the note of the well-used "Here comes the bride"( yes, the bride had insisted on that song ) accompanied by a pudgy man with a bowl hair-cut, one could see that despite the faintly flamboyant style the bride sported, he was indeed a very fine specimen of manly beauty. A white suit with the occasional red sparkle on the collar and cuffs showed off a perfectly toned body a sixteen year old would die to have, and several strands of silver-mixed gold were held firmly back by a ruby-encrusted ivory clip, so as to not even let one single strand of gold to escape and hide the radiantly beautiful face of the man. A vibrant bouquet of exquisite Eroica roses in his hand seemed to complete the ethereal picture.

As the bride approached the altar the groom's face began to show the glimmer of a quiet joy, as the day was much anticipated by the two lovers. And it could have come sooner, if the groom had not been so adamant upon waiting until such unions as those between two men were legalized in his country. The more orthodox Christians still frequently and vigorously lodged campaigns against the newly published law, but one of the groom's old acquaintances from school who had become a god's man was kind enough to conduct the ceremony after a hefty donation to the church on the bride's part.

They exchanged their vows accordingly, and I am not obliged to bore you with the fluffy details, but know that nothing they could not give each other was promised, and the things that were promised were beyond what most couples would be able to perceive. Having flamboyantly thrown off the boquet of roses ( a curly-haired man who uncannily resembled spooky kitaro caught it and smiled at a blonde Greek-god) the bride unceremoniously grabbed the groom and marched him off to the church-exit.

The groom was mildly irritated, but amused nevertheless. But that sentiment only lasted till the bride tilted his head and said, "Please carry me over the threshold, Major"?

"That is for the wedding night, you fop. Must I assist you in polluting the solemnity of this place?" The Major grumbled in a major manner.

The fop in question smiled in a way that was too charming for a fifty year old man and said just two words in answer, "Please, Major?"

The Major relented.

The wedding was as normal as any other, but the grooms were certainly exceptional.

See that review button? Good man (or woman, or anything in between)! Now go and press it!


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